


Afraid to Sing

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Demisexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has deductions about John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afraid to Sing

"You don't date to find a sexual partner. In fact, if you had your choice, you wouldn't date at all, but you're getting older, and your sister is deffinitely not having kids, so your parents pester you about grandchildren." 

John gave a heavey sigh as he hung up his coat, clearly resigned to this conversation he'd most cerainly rather not have. He had to have known it would happen eventually, this conversation about sexuality. Sherlock needed something to occupy his mind, and this was something he had put off long enough. John was such a pleasure to deduce, everything new, exciting, and so very unexpected.

"That you don't really enjoy it doesn't stop you from having sex with your dates, though. In fact, you preform most admirably, I would hazard to guess, making sure that all in your long line of women find completion before they can realize yours wasn't all that it could be. They're all ordinary women, and ordinary doesn't turn you on like you wish it would. If it did, it would be so much easier to simply tell me no, instead of rushing to my side at any time."

John was still silent as he sat down, just staring at Sherlock, slight pain written on his features, but still there was something more, something else Sherlock couldn't quite read. He had expected John to say something by now, this silence was unnerving.

"You never watch porn, but you do read it. Not silly erotic fiction that booksellers sell and little old ladies read, but online, things writted by young people, about other peoples characters, where all it is is pure passion and sex, and that gets you off. The passion of it, the surrender. But though that's what you want you haven't found anyone that can give it to you. Why, John? Why do you continue to look for that in all these women that can't understand it, that will always expect you to be just like any other man, focused on sex?"

John let out a small laugh, eyes scanning the room, looking anywhere but at Sherlock.

"I keep looking because, well, what if I do find someone that can? I don't want to give up when there could still be someone out there that could make me feel... Normal." His voice trailed off and he finally met Sherlock's gaze, ungaurded, pain clear in his eyes. "I'm not like you, Sherlock. I've been this way all my life, and yet I still wish I could change it, I wish I could feel that passion others talk about. Each time, I hope maybe she's the one, and then- well. You seem to have figured out the rest quite well on your own." He flushed as he looked away, and Sherlock felt a stir in himself, an inspiration, a missing conection that finally made sense.

"Most of your fictions, they aren't about happy couples, they aren't about men who are in charge of their relationships. No. You like to read the ones where the man is slowly taken apart, piece by piece, until they're so undone, they fall apart and can't help it. And you'll read any sort of pairing to find it. male/female, male/male, even fics where tentacle monsters are the ones who completely take them. You aren't straight, John. But neither are you gay. The sex of the partner has nothing to do witth what turns you on."

John was breathing slightly heavier, still flushed, and he made no move to deny Sherlock's claims, which only cemented them as fact in his mind.

"I bet I could take you apart. Tie you down,, touch you with just my fingers, and simply speak to you. The idea excites you, of being deduced in that most intimate act, of hearing me tell you all the things I could do to your body. It's possible you'd even enjoy the telling of it more than if I actually did do it, though hearing my thoughts on it afterward would also be a heady experience for you. Wouldn't it, John?"

John's pupils were blown wide as he looked up at Sherlock again. He looked so vulnerable Sherlock couldn't help but to lick his lips. Normal sex didn't appeal to him, as he had long known, but if John would let him have this...

"Please John, let me see if I can take you apart, clear down until I can see your soul?"

John gulped, but nodded, a silent acceptance of it, and Sherlock stood, walking over to him to take his face in his hands.

"Thank you." he whispered as he leaned in for a soft kiss. "You have no idea what this means to me."


End file.
